Rogues and Robins
by mrspencil
Summary: A series of responses to a 31 day December challenge, set by Hades Lord of the Dead. Prompt 31/ Memory. A very Happy New Year to all!
1. Hot Chocolate

_The first in a series of responses to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt is "hot chocolate" from I'm Nova._

_A slightly fluffy start, including a character from last year's challenge:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**1/Hot Chocolate**

* * *

Arthur, the youngest and smallest Irregular,

Stamped his numb feet as he walked through the park.

It was frosty and freezing; as snowflakes fell softly

On Arthur, and daylight turned swiftly to dark.

A quite philosophical soul was young Arthur;

Expecting his days to be cheerless and grim.

A lost, lonely childhood; unwanted, abandoned;

Till fortune and favour had smiled upon him.

~0~

He pulled down his cap, wrapped his woollen scarf tighter

And trudged his way slowly through thick falling snow.

One figure, then two, then three more joined young Arthur

From all of those places no gentry would go.

They huddled together, for warmth and protection,

And picked their way slowly down iced cobbled stone;

A ragged and wayward and noisy assortment;

No longer unnoticed, no longer alone.

~0~

Past ladies and gentlemen hurrying homeward,

Past horses and carriages clattering by,

Past street vendors closing up stalls for the evening;

All hustle and bustle 'neath snow flurried sky.

They reached an address which they knew like no other,

Shook snow off their clothing, and knocked on the door.

It opened, they stepped into warmth, light and comfort;

Left damp snowy trails on the tiled hallway floor.

~0~

They tipped caps politely, to greet Mrs Hudson,

As faces and fingers began to thaw out.

Young Arthur removed the wool scarf he had tightened;

Quite cosy within, as the snow fell without.

Tall tales from a certain detective and doctor,

A place on the rug by a welcoming fire;

Mince pies at his side, with a mug of hot chocolate,

What more could the likes of young Arthur desire?

~0~


	2. Abandoned

_A second response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Lucillia:_

_"Dec 2. Someone has abandoned a baby on Mycroft's doorstep with a note claiming that it is his. Because Mycroft is missing a day from his memory, a day where he didn't follow his usual routine, this may or may not be true. What do the Holmes brothers do aside from try to solve the mystery, especially since Mrs. Hudson no-longer does diapers?"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Abandoned**

* * *

The household was sleeping, a knock on the door;

Who on earth could it be?

Down seventeen steps charged a puzzled detective

At quarter to three.

And there at the door stood the man least expected;

Dear Mycroft, his brother,

Who moved between work and Diogenes Club

And would visit no other.

He held a small basket and strived to keep calm

But, quite clearly, was failing.

His sibling observed that he'd had quite a shock,

And the basket was wailing.

Doctor Watson appeared, rubbing sleep from his eyes,

Quite irate and put out.

He stared at Holmes senior, then blinked as he saw

Two small fists wave about.

He bundled the visitor into the hall,

Sat him down in a chair.

What chain of events could result in a babe

Needing Holmesian care?

~0~

Pinned neatly to soft woollen blanket,

He saw a short note;

A few simple lines in a delicate hand.

He read out what she wrote.

"My darling, I hand you our dear Lily May,

Born the Twelfth of September.

Our blessing began with that government ball,

And that night to remember...

For reasons, alas, which I cannot disclose

I have had to take flight

And leave you our baby; unique souvenir

Of that wonderful night."

~0~

Doctor Watson stared closely at Mycroft,

Who stared at the floor.

"I attended a government ball, that is true,

But recall nothing more.

Strong painkillers meant that events

From that evening were blurred;

But surely I'd know if an intimate act

Had occurred?

I am sure I would know..." his words faltered,

Bemused and perplexed.

"The question", his brother proclaimed

Is now what you do next"

~0~

The bundle which wailed in the basket

Demanded attention;

Insisting on milk and in need of a task

Too unpleasant to mention.

"Mrs Hudson!" the three heroes roared,

"We require your assistance!

This baby requires a more feminine touch"

But they met with resistance.

A miffed and be-nightied housekeeper

Arrived in a huff;

"I have done my fair share tending infants

And napkins and stuff."

She dropped an assortment of linens,

Some milk and a towel;

Then bade them good night with a nod,

And a sleep-deprived scowl.

~0~

Three gentlemen stared at the baby,

Then stared at each other.

Not one of them felt they were willing

To act as her mother.

Dr Watson declared he'd retire

For a few hours' peace;

He left the two Holmes to attend

To their daughter and niece...

~0~

A baby-filled basket, two men

Now resigned to their fate

A table prepared for a task

They would certainly hate...

~0~

Imagine a nightmare endured

Now imagine much worse...

The following scene was too graphic

To render in verse...

~0~

...a shaken and milk spattered Mycroft

Sat down looking pale;

His brother, bespattered (not milk)

Learned how courage can fail;

The bundle replaced in her basket,

Now clean and well fed

Holmes frowned at an envelope tucked

In her basket weave bed

"Your Pall Mall address, my dear brother,

Is not twenty four"

Just then came a fast frantic knocking

Upon the front door.

~0~

A worried, disheveled young man

Tumbled into the hall;

He stared in relief at the basket,

And baby and all.

"My daughter!" he cried as she lay

Fast asleep and contented,

And Mycroft's brain whirred at the notion

This man represented.

"Not mine..." Mycroft whispered, "It seems

The address was mistaken

It seems I've not fathered this child

Nor her mother forsaken"

~0~

Relief filled his head as he watched the reunion,

And yet,

Perhaps, somewhere deep in his heart

Was a hint of regret.

Once checks on his neighbour's credentials

Were made with great care,

The father and daughter stepped out

In the fresh winter air.

~0~

A strong cup of tea, and a chat as a new

day was dawning,

Before heading home to the normal routine

Of the morning.

As Sherlock ascended the stairs to his room,

Seventeen,

His brother reflected, a moment,

On what might have been...

~0~


	3. Stranded

_A third response to Hades' December challenge._

_A rondeau._

_Prompt by KnightFury:"Holmes and Watson are stranded due to bad weather."_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Stranded**

* * *

A lonely house upon the moor.

A trail misjudged, a simple flaw;

A sudden storm, two men snowbound.

No sign of life for miles around,

Just frozen mire and windswept tor.

~0~

No hope of help, no chance of thaw;

The snow drifts high on cold, hard ground;

Of food and fuel, a dwindling store.

A lonely house.

~0~

Two men who understand the score,

They've worked against such odds before.

The snow plays tricks with every sound.

A bittern's boom? Or keening hound?

Soft scrabbling heard outside the door...

A lonely house.

~0~


	4. Drinking Game

_Fourth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Lucillia:"Doctor Watson, Moriarty, drinking game."_

_Set before "The Final Problem" and the events at Reichenbach_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Drinking Game**

* * *

A long day...

And the tavern seemed warm and inviting.

He'd simply drop in for a minute, that's all;

Unwind from the stress of an overfull clinic,

Step back from each patient, each weary house call.

~0~

One drink...

A tall stranger approached the good doctor;

He offered a glass of a fine Irish malt

The doctor accepted without hesitation

If he needed a drink, it was Sherlock Holmes' fault.

~0~

Two drinks...

"Once again?" asked his drinking companion,

His thin frame bent forward, a bottle in hand:

A much needed break from his work, and his flat mate;

It seemed that this gentleman might understand.

~0~

Three drinks...

Now the warmth was suffused through his body,

He relaxed as the malt caught the lamp's yellow flame.

He'd had three sleepless nights, thanks to Holmes and his habits,

A violin playing till dawn was to blame.

~0~

Four drinks...

A brief thought; he should really head homeward;

Forgotten, as more amber liquid was poured.

His companion drank with him, his sunken eyes shining,

As peace and well-being were slowly restored.

~0~

Five drinks...

Now the world seemed decidedly mellow;

The cares of his daily routine rolled away.

He toasted the man for his generous spirit;

For the whisky which brightened his long, tiring day.

~0~

Six drinks...

Unaware that the measures grew larger;

His feet were less sure on the smooth tavern floor

He stood to depart, kept a grip on the table

As the room started spinning as never before.

~0~

Outside, with support from the tall helpful stranger,

A carriage was summoned, he swayed on his feet

He was bundled inside as his friend paid the cab man,

And gave him instructions; address: Baker Street...

~0~

...a ruffled detective, disturbed by the door bell,

Stared down at his dazed, drunken friend, horrified;

A large empty bottle of fine Irish whisky

And a monogrammed, elegant note at his side.

~0~

The note...

"_Mister Holmes, I've spent time with the doctor;_

_As you see, I'm returning your friend in one piece._

_This will not be the case if your false accusations_

_And intrusive approach to my work does not cease._

_I enjoyed playing games with your simple companion,_

_But you ought to take care of your partner in crime._

_If you cross swords again with the great Moriarty,_

_He'll have more than malt whisky to deal with next time."_

~0~

The note

Was refolded, tucked safe in a pocket

He should have expected such threats to his friend

Holmes' resolve would not falter, his case would continue,

But he wondered just how this endeavor might end.

~0~


	5. Tradition?

_My fifth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from SheWhoScrawls; "Elaborate on the Victorian traditions of Halloween?"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Tradition?**

* * *

Dr Watson regarded the room in confusion,

He called to his comrade, "Holmes! What does this mean?

It is, you'll remember,

The fifth of December,

But you've hung decorations which suit Hallowe'en!"

~0~

Holmes strolled through the doorway, and grinned at the doctor,

Quite pleased with the cobwebs festooning the wall;

Three resident bats,

Two random black cats,

No Christmas embellishments hanging at all.

~o~

"Dear fellow, I'm simply fed up of tradition;

Most seasonal trimmings are boring and trite.

No bland festive greeting;

Instead, Trick or Treating!

We could visit the neighbours, in costume, tonight!"

~0~

Mrs Hudson stormed in, she was noisily fuming,

"I hope you can tell that I'm very distressed!

Our door wreath, you see,

Spells out RIP;

A poor way to greet every tradesman and guest!"

~0~

She noticed a cauldron, now quietly steaming,

A noose, and an axe and a wide grinning skull.

A raven was tapping,

The bats were now flapping;

Holmes smiled, "Mrs Hudson, at least it's not dull."

~0~

She glared at a pumpkin head propped on the sideboard

And the raven, now perched on an old plaster bust.

"Mister Holmes, this won't do!

I'm not happy with you!"

She flounced off to her kitchen in utter disgust.

~0~

"Dear Holmes, I suspect you have forfeited breakfast.

I fear Mrs Hudson's in no mood to cook

Only you could conceive

A false All Hallows Eve;

But I fear your experiment's coming unstuck."

~0~

At that moment one cat, quite intent on the raven,

Sprang up on the sideboard and toppled the bust.

The plaster bust shattered,

The bat trio scattered,

And the room was engulfed in confusion and dust.

~0~

Holmes coughed as the dust (and the bat trio) settled,

And gazed at the doctor, now shaking his head

"Perhaps my dear friend,

Your rebellion should end;

Please stick to more Christmassy projects instead."

~0~

Holmes pulled down the cobwebs, his spider-filled garlands,

Returned to his bookshelf the stories of Poe;

(The bats were all sleeping,

So those he'd be keeping;

They were not in the way, upside down, in a row.)

~0~

Then down to the hall, to appease Mrs Hudson,

And take down the funeral wreath from the door.

The cats were set free,

Holmes decided that he

Would meddle with seasons and dates never more.

~0~


	6. Brothers

_Sixth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt by Sparky Dorian:"Mycroft needs Holmes' help."_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Brothers**

* * *

The elder exists in discrete isolation;

His office of state or Diogenes Club.

The younger embraces the bustle of London;

Two hundred and twenty one B at the hub.

~0~

The elder's routine has predictable rhythm;

A pattern of purpose which goes by the book.

The younger attracts all disorder and chaos;

His schedule depends on chance clues and good luck.

~0~

The elder sleeps soundly, a regular bedtime;

And wakes at a similar time every day.

The younger might start an adventure at midnight;

Determined to keep signs of boredom at bay.

~0~

The elder is fond of fine wine and fine dining;

His shape a result of his weakness for food.

The younger more angular brother moves swiftly

From famine to feasting, depending on mood.

~0~

The elder, instead of good friends, has assistants,

And contacts of influence; needs nothing more.

The younger, the same till a wounded ex-soldier

Showed just what his life had been lacking before.

~0~

One brother slow moving, both brothers quick witted;

Both proud of employing the brain, not the heart.

A contrast of habits, of strengths and ambitions

Which tie them together, yet keep them apart.

~0~

But sometimes, the help of a brother is needed

Enough to break out of a long held routine;

Requiring a man of meticulous habit

To brave quite a strange, unfamiliar scene.

~0~

So out of a carriage, steps Mycroft, in person,

Immaculate, always, no hair out of place

And reaches the door of his Baker Street sibling;

A puzzle to offer;

A game;

A new case.

~0~


	7. Portrait

_Seventh response for Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Spockologist: "Family portrait"_

_Many thanks to W. Y. Traveller, for helping me complete this:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Portrait**

* * *

His fountain pen rolled to the back of the bookcase,

He sighed as it ran out of bookshelf and dropped.

He reached down through cobwebs, intent on retrieval,

Groped round for the object, felt something...and stopped.

He followed the contour of carved wooden framing;

A picture? A mirror? A portrait? He frowned,

And gently maneuvered the item out sideways

Then moved to the window to see what he'd found.

~0~

A dusting soon made the whole image much clearer;

A yellowing photograph, framed in jet black.

A family portrait, two adults, two children;

The date 1860 inscribed on the back.

A day in their lives which was captured forever;

A formal group sitting, scene clearly laid out.

No names nor address for identification,

But he knew who they were with no shadow of doubt.

~0~

The background, it seemed, was an elegant parlour;

A piano and fine brocade stool could be seen.

A lady was seated, a man stood beside her;

Two youngsters, both carefully still, in between.

The lady looked thin, far too thin to be healthy;

A pale oval face and intense haunted eyes

The man, stern and straight, had one hand on her shoulder;

Concern which no formal pretense could disguise.

~0~

His attention was drawn to the two in the foreground,

At the feet of their mother, both smartly dressed boys.

The taller, a definite edge to his manner,

A tilt to his posture, a confident poise.

The other...he smiled as he noted his features,

He knew how they'd change when this child was full grown.

A head of thick curls, a familiar expression

Of covert excitement, uniquely his own.

~0~

He gazed long and hard at the Holmes' family members;

A glimpse of his friend and associate's past.

Then, noting the time, he returned the memento;

If Holmes knew he'd seen it he'd not hear the last.

He added some dust; he had learned from the master,

And hoped his companion would find nothing wrong.

Then, pen back in hand, he returned to his journal

As though he'd been writing away all along...

~0~


	8. Frozen

_Eighth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from KnightFury:"frozen"_

_Dedicated to Ennui Enigma:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Frozen**

* * *

Cold can be exhilarating,

Energising,

Stimulating;

Clears away warm cobwebbed thoughts

And sharpens up the senses.

Something rather magical

Occurs on winter days,

When everything is crisp and clear

And every breath condenses.

~0~

But...this was not the type of cold the gods today had chosen;

Sherlock Holmes was late again; his loyal friend was frozen.

~0~

He stamped cold feet on colder ground,

Flexed blue and numbing fingers.

The frost had seeped through every layer,

The type of frost which lingers.

The sky was neither clear nor blue,

But ominously grey.

Although there seemed sufficient snow

Some more was on the way.

He longed for extra, thicker socks,

His face had lost all feeling;

Abandoning his post became

Incredibly appealing.

~0~

But Sherlock Holmes required his help

And so, of course, he'd wait.

He'd never let his comrade down

And leave him to his fate.

He marched around his hiding place,

Ignored his aching shoulder;

Although it seemed impossible,

The day was getting colder.

~0~

No birdsong eased his lone ordeal,

Each bird had used its brain;

Stayed safe within a cosy nest,

Protected, warm and sane.

He gazed at branches, leaves and twigs...

Perhaps...no, quite absurd;

The cold had clearly chilled his thoughts;

A doctor, not a bird.

He brushed aside all thought of nesting,

Looked upon the heath;

Flakes now fell from high above

On all who stood beneath.

~0~

At last he heard through muffled ears

The distant welcome sound

Of wooden wheels and horses' hooves

On stony, icy ground.

A sturdy carriage came in sight,

Emerged through snowy squall;

His friend, who urged the horses on,

Most welcome sight of all.

~0~

Holmes leapt to aid his frozen friend;

Distraught, apologetic.

He saw his chilled and sorry state,

For once quite sympathetic.

The case had been successful

But had taken far too long

His plan to leave a lookout here,

In retrospect, was wrong.

~0~

Deducing from the frosty layer

On hat, moustache, and coat

And icicles which nestled in

The scarf around his throat,

That Watson, stoic soldier,

Needed warmth without delay,

He bundled him inside the coach.

They soon were on their way.

~0~

A cheerful inn, a warming drink, and Watson, now unfrozen;

But watching Sherlock Holmes's back was still what he'd have chosen.

~0~


	9. Astronomy

_Ninth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from I'm Nova: "Sherlock deleted astronomy. His brother is nicknamed after a planet."_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Astronomy**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson; evening stroll around the park.

Sky was clear, the moon was rising, all was peaceful, cold and dark.

Gazing at the star-pricked heavens, Watson cried in sheer delight,

"Holmes, regard the constellations, on this perfect winter's night.

See Orion's belt above you; all the heavens there to see;

Surely this can't fail to move you, all this sparkling majesty?"

Holmes replied, "I am, dear friend, indifferent to astronomy."

~0~

"There's no point in finding out which planet orbits what and how,

Or why seven stars are strangely thought to represent a plough.

Really it is not important what precisely fills the sky;

Concentrate on what's around you, not what twinkles from on high.

Pure romanticism, Watson, just what I expect from you;

Nothing useful, whatsoever, nothing those with sense pursue.

On this subject please accept we have opposing points of view."

~0~

Doctor Watson, quite deflated, tried again just one more time;

"All things can't be simply measured by their use in solving crime.

Surely, Holmes, you saw, in childhood, great adventures in the stars;

Yearned to fly to distant planets, Saturn, Mercury or Mars?"

Holmes denied such flights of fancy, feet kept firmly on the ground.

Why waste time on science fiction? Science facts were all around.

Argument continued thusly, whilst the two were homeward bound.

~0~

Baker Street; a carriage waited just outside their own front door;

Not a carriage Doctor Watson thought he'd ever seen before.

Holmes however recognised who deigned to visit them that night.

"Watson, please prepare yourself; a quite unique celestial sight.

Jupiter has left his orbit; stars are now in disarray,

Consternation in the cosmos, mayhem in the Milky Way.

Let's head in; I'd like to know what brother Mycroft has to say."

~0~

* * *

_a/n: Jupiter...5th planet from the sun, the largest and most massive in the solar system._


	10. Puppy

_Tenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Wordwielder: "Watson brings home a puppy."_

_A somewhat fluffy fic, dedicated to the wonderful Jack63kids, wishing her a Happy Birthday._

_Holmes' and companions do not belong to me_

* * *

**Puppy**

* * *

Holmes, waking up in his Baker Street bedroom,

No hurry at all for the day to begin.

A long night, engrossed as a case neared completion,

Concluded by playing some late violin.

His peaceful reflections were soon interrupted;

The door barreled open, no warning, no knock,

A bundle of fur leapt about on his blankets,

He sat up abruptly, in open-mouthed shock.

Before he could act, the intruder discovered

A way to get under the covers instead

And dived for the warmest and darkest position,

By Holmesian feet at the end of the bed.

~0~

The "thing" nestled down, unperturbed by reaction,

Located a handy bare ankle and licked;

Holmes' cry of alarm brought his loyal friend running,

As he pulled off the bedclothes and hastily kicked.

His foot missed the target, which wisely retreated

And moved with all speed to the carpeted floor.

Doctor Watson observed the whole scene with amusement

And scooped up the "guest" as it charged through the door.

He soothed the small wriggling, excited young creature

Then attempted the same with his horrified friend.

"Dear Holmes, you are surely not scared of a puppy?

He is meant to enthrall and delight, not offend."

~0~

Holmes glared at his comrade, then glared at the puppy.

"I don't think your comment is helpful at all.

I'm really not sure what in heaven possessed you

To bring home a nuisance so scruffy and small!

We live in a flat, not an animal shelter

And what has the good Mrs Hudson to say?

No arguments Watson, I've made a decision

This flea-bitten bundle of fur cannot stay!"

The small scruffy nuisance looked vaguely indignant,

Observed the detective with puppy dog eyes.

The doctor said mildly " I bow to your judgement,

The puppy will go if you think it is wise".

~0~

His friend was quite startled by swift aquiescence;

He had not expected a victory so soon.

"In fact", added Watson "I'll even make sure

That your canine companion will vanish by noon.

I deduce you've forgotten it's young Arthur's birthday;

A party with jelly and cake has been planned.

This puppy's a present from all the Irregulars;

I offered to hide him, to give them a hand."

And so it turned out, as the doctor predicted;

A small scruffy gift for a small scruffy boy.

A day full of birthday cake, jelly and laughter

And new-found companionship, comfort and joy.

~0~


	11. Early Days

_Eleventh response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Galaxy1001D:" Write a Sherlock Holmes story that takes place in the early 1880's. There aren't that many Doyle stories that early in the timeline leaving lots of room for fan-fiction writers like us!"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Early Days**

* * *

Holmes wandered back to his Baker Street residence;

A clear winter's night at a quarter to one.

Absorbed in a task which had now been completed,

He wondered where most of the past week had gone.

Not sleeping, not eating, just drinking when needed;

Consumed by the challenge and thrill of the chase.

A burning desire to track down to conclusion

Each pertinent detail and clue of his case.

~0~

The hall was in darkness, just as he'd expected,

He headed upstairs, not quite ready to rest.

A light in the sitting room puzzled him greatly;

An error, perhaps, or a late-calling guest.

Instead, his new flat mate was patiently waiting,

The fire blazing brightly, a fresh pot of tea.

"Good evening, dear fellow, as sleep proved elusive

I thought I'd wait up for a while, as you see.

A tray over there, as I'm sure you are hungry,

It's days since you've eaten a morsel of food.

Then please let me hear of your recent adventures;

The puzzles unraveled, the villains pursued."

~0~

Holmes settled with supper and tea by the fireside,

Quite happy to tell the good doctor a tale.

He basked in the glow of his warm admiration;

Such honest amazement would never grow stale.

And Holmes, as he spoke, was aware of a feeling

He could not recall had been present before;

The realisation that what he did mattered,

That someone was listening, quite steady and sure.

And the doctor, enthralled by the art of detection

The piercing deductions as sharp as a blade

Found new born excitement, delighting in danger;

Felt war wounds unstiffen and old nightmares fade.

~0~

One random crossed pathway which led to another,

And led in its turn to this Baker Street scene.

One ex-army doctor, one lonely detective

Such perfect alignment, unique, unforeseen.

~0~


	12. Trust

_Twelfth and thirteenth responses to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompts combined from cjnwriter:12: "Haircut" and from Sparky Dorian:13: "Implicit trust"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Trust**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes with

Cut throat razor,

Watson sitting

Oh so still.

Quietly seething,

Barely breathing,

Hoping that

No blood will spill.

~0~

Sherlock Holmes seems

Quite complacent,

Gives the blade

A second strop.

Watson's wincing,

Needs convincing

He won't lose a

Single drop.

~0~

Watson clearly

Apprehensive;

Far too late

For such regret.

Role required,

As Holmes desired

To join a

Barber shop

Quartet.

~0~

Undercover barber

Working

Hard

To solve

A gruesome

Crime.

Watson thinking,

Heart still sinking,

Holmes has gone

Too far

This time.

~0~

Holmes is wielding

Sharpened razor,

Brings it

Close

To Watson's face.

Watson praying,

Thoughts conveying,

This might be his

Final case.

~0~

Razor's edge

With skin

Connecting;

Lamplight causing

Blade to flash.

Holmes is trimming

Whiskers, skimming

Far too close

To

Fine moustache.

~0~

Watson dares not

Move a muscle,

Lest he risks

His

Pride and joy.

Slight suspicion

His position,

Holmes is starting

To enjoy.

~0~

Features creased

In concentration,

Holmes

Manipulates

With care.

Expert shaving

Leads to saving

Watson's

Precious

Facial hair.

~0~

Unexpectedly,

The doctor's

Tension level

Starts to

Fall.

Holmes technique

While quite unique

Is proving

Not too bad at all.

~0~

Sherlock Holmes

Now moves to

Jaw line,

Mental shrug;

_Well..._

_If Holmes must..._

Blade is steady,

Watson's ready;

Quite relaxed;

Implicit trust.

~0~


	13. Home Visit

_Thirteenth response to Hades' December Challenge._

_Prompt from Sparky Dorian:" Holmes and Watson catch cold after staking out a suspect. A surprising someone comes to "mother" them."_

_The stage directions and all titles are part of the poem._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Home Visit**

* * *

**The Cast**

_Sherlock Holmes, sadly sneezing and wheezing;_

_Watson, his fever-filled friend;_

_Arthur, with small scruffy canine companion;_

_Lestrade, showing up near the end._

_Hopkins, once more sporting boyish moustache;_

_Mycroft, the Holmes' elder brother._

_Of course Mrs H;_

_And then last but not least_

_An agency nurse like no other._

_~0~_

**Scene one**

_...is a sitting room, sadly neglected; in fact, in complete disarray._

_The tenants are both in their beds feeling sick; the good Mrs Hudson's away._

_The debris from breakfast the previous morn congeals on each bowl, cup and plate;_

_A teapot sits sadly midst milk and cold tea and ash is piled high in the grate._

_Old papers and test tubes and letters are scattered (Those things were untidy before)_

_From above, come a cough, and a sniff and a sneeze; from below, comes a knock at the door..._

~0~

_Holmes (feebly_)-Please answer the door, my dear Watson,

I really can't get out of bed

This cold is the worst that has ever been suffered

I'm ill from my toes to my head.

~0~

_Watson (first cursing in ex-army style, but quietly under his breath)-_

Of course, I will answer the door, my dear fellow;

It appears I am further from death.

~0~

**Scene Two**

_ Doctor Watson with hanky descends down seventeen steps to the hall;_

_He opens the door to regard (so he thinks) the most welcoming sight of them all_

_A crisply starched, smiling, bespectacled nurse, her cap part-concealing her face._

~0~

_Kind nurse_-Doctor Watson, You are looking unwell;

It seems I have found the right place.

Dear Sir, Mycroft Holmes, has employed me to help

In your fever-filled moment of need;

He sent me to soothe you poor men back to health,

For he knows that I always succeed.

I can cook I can clean, I can mop fevered brows,

I'm a Jack-of-all-trades type of nurse

But, haste, let me check on your bed-ridden friend,

You are ill, but I fear he's much worse!

~0~

**Scene Three**

_ ...is Holmes' bedroom; a dark gloomy place; a sad, croaky figure in bed;_

_Disheveled, disgruntled, dismayed and disturbed, he coughs weakly, and raises his head._

~0~

_Holmes-_Visitors really aren't welcome right now,

This crisply starched nurse cannot stay!

~0~

_Kind nurse-_do not worry; it will not take long

To nurse all of your troubles away.

~0~

_In the blink of an eye, or the beat of a heart, or the flap of a butterfly's wings;_

_She has changed all the linen, prepared a fine meal and several more wonderful things._

_There's a fire in the grate, fresh clothes on the chair, and some freshly brewed tea in the pot._

_~0~_

_Kind nurse-_Here's some soup to restore you to health, please drink, while it's still piping hot!

~0~

_Both men, as instructed, raise spoons to their lips..then are stunned by a sudden commotion._

~0~

_Mrs H_ _(screaming loud as she enters the room)-_

Do not drink!

She has poisoned the potion!

~0~

_Behind her is Arthur, with small scruffy hound, Inspector Lestrade from the Yard,_

_Then Hopkins, still sporting a boyish moustache, and Mycroft, behind, breathing hard._

_Both men drop their spoons, and stare hard at the nurse, who sighs while removing her hat._

~0~

_Kind nurse-A_m I destined to fail every time?

I am really annoyed about that!

It took quite some time to escape from my cell,

A bribe and considerable skill;

And I thought I was clever, pretending to care,

Before going in for the kill.

~0~

_Holmes (sniffling)-O_f course, it's mad Elsie again!

My powers of deduction are failing.

It's hard to conceive a more dastardly plot;

Attacking two men, when they're ailing!

~0~

_Mad Elsie/Kind nurse (now in derbies once more)_

I know, it was going so well!

I thought I had covered the holes in my plot,

What on earth was my error? Please tell.

~0~

_Mrs H (looking daggers at Elsie)-Y_ou sent

A short letter to lure me away.

At first I was fooled, then I studied the words

And was struck by the style of your "A".

I had seen it before on the letter you wrote

To keep me away from your wedding

So Arthur was sent with a note to the Yard,

I could tell where this story was heading.

I waited for Hopkins, Inspector Lestrade,

Young Arthur, and Arthur's young pup.

It was purely coincidence, oddly enough,

That Holmes' older brother turned up.

~0~

_Mad Elsie: (now angry)_ -This just isn't fair!

My plan really should have succeeded!

I curse all your friends and that little dog too!

For turning up just when not needed!

~0~

_Young Hopkins-_ Mad Elsie, one day you might learn,

How much you must pay for your crime;

A long spell in prison awaits you again,

And, truly, we mean it this time.

~0~

**Epilogue**

_Baker Street kitchen, stove burning; Watson and Holmes still quite ill_

_Hot tea and warm stew and mince pies are consumed and Mycroft has eaten his fill._

_He heads to his home, giving Arthur a lift while the patients are ordered to bed_

_Relieved that they have Mrs H back in charge, not a vengeful mad killer instead._

_~0~_

* * *

_A/N: Elsie has appeared in several previous poems...A Study in Drama (in a Study in Genres), Hug! (in Mistletoe and Mayhem) and Unexpected Visitors ( in Felons and Festive Fripperies)_


	14. The Strand

_Fourteenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Dedicated to our very own Disney princess; Lucy36._

_Prompt from Book girl fan: "Surely no human hair could be so long!"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

* * *

**The Strand**

* * *

Holmes measured the strand

Which was found at the scene of the crime.

Well-used to unusual clues,

He was puzzled this time.

Gems lost from the Tower of London;

Impossibly high.

Neither vigilant raven nor warder

Saw thieves passing by.

~0~

Uncoiling the soft golden thread,

Holmes then measured its length;

Applied gentle traction and force to

Discern the full strength;

With microscope slide

He assessed the full structure with care;

Concluding, on checking, indeed,

It was coiled human hair.

~0~

He searched through his bookshelf;

No article helped with this case.

He checked letter "H" in his files,

And found useless blank space.

He went through his findings again,

But his research was stuck.

His friend smiled and headed upstairs

And returned with a book...

~0~

"Dear Holmes, try improbable answers

When reasoned thought fails"

He passed the detective his copy

Of Grimm's Fairy Tales.

Holmes shrugged, flicked through pages

And stopped at a fine illustration;

And knew beyond doubt that the scene

Held the true explanation.

~0~

Arresting Rapunzel and sidekick

Might prove to be hard,

And so would describing his theory

To those at the Yard...

~0~


	15. Exchange

_Fifteenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Galaxy1001D:"Write a story where Holmes pretends to be Watson and Watson pretends to be Holmes."_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Exchange**

* * *

_That case?_

_I do recall that case!_

_That strange and quite outstanding case,_

_When Holmes agreed to take my place._

_For just one afternoon you'll see,_

_That Sherlock Holmes was played by me..._

~0~

I practiced hard to play my part,

And act with brain instead of heart,

And master the detective's art,

And stare with deep and hawk-like gaze,

Through three pipes' worth of smoky haze,

For days and days and days and days.

~0~

And every morning, up and down,

I paced in mouse-hued dressing gown,

With bored and irritated frown.

And Holmes observed; at least I'd show

The lengths I was prepared to go.

The violin (I loved it so);

I asked to play it;

Holmes said "No."

~0~

The fateful afternoon, at last!

I'd marked off every day which passed,

And hoped that time would travel fast.

Anticipation unsurpassed!

My dearest friend had thought it through;

He had my Gladstone bag, I knew,

And cane (quite worth more limping) too;

And thus began my Holmes debut...

~0~

I waited, sat in Holmes's chair

With dour and melancholy air

(A hint of eloquent despair),

Gazed wistfully at violin,

And hoped that Holmes would soon come in

And our performance could begin.

~0~

Holmes entered with his promised guest;

A lady, old and smartly dressed.

I bowed (I think she looked impressed),

And hoped I'd passed a Holmesian test.

I studied Holmes; he looked much older,

Dragged one foot, and rubbed his shoulder.

"My war wounds, Ma'am," he sadly told her.

~0~

He sat her down, then limped away;

He left me there to have my say.

I tried to keep my nerves at bay.

I studied every clue I could

An untied lace, a trace of mud;

And knew a great detective would

Have seen it all and understood.

~0~

I saw torn ribbon round one cuff

And told her lots of clever stuff.

I doubted I'd deduced enough,

But Holmes looked on and seemed amazed;

No hint of scorn, no eyebrow raised.

He simply watched in awe, and praised!

~0~

He followed every single word,

Transfixed by everything he heard;

A miracle had just occurred.

I smoked another pipe (my third).

I carried on in utter bliss;

I'd never had a day like this.

~0~

When entertained, the hours just fly;

The afternoon passed swiftly by

For Holmes, the lady guest and I.

Then all too soon, the day was done,

I'd played my part; I'd had my fun;

Delighted with the tales I'd spun.

~0~

My lady client made to rise;

I smiled back at the sparkling eyes

Of Mrs Hudson in disguise.

Returning to my usual seat,

I thought my happiness complete.

~0~

My greatest ever birthday treat!

~0~


	16. With Thanks

_Sixteenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from SheWhoScrawls: "Thank you notes"._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**With Thanks**

* * *

_Holmes, alone in Baker Street; a cold December night;_

_Wrapped parcels underneath the tree, beribboned, tagged and bright;_

_The contents should be obvious, although they're tied up tight._

_He finds a stack of "thank you" cards sits down, begins to write..._

~0~

Dear Mycroft,

As my brother, you presume to know me best;

Your choice of Christmas present puts this premise to the test.

Expensive Bond Street paper and the texture of fine wool;

You seem to have forgotten that my sock drawer is quite full.

~0~

Dear Watson,

A new magnifying glass is what I needed;

Delighted that my plea for no more fine wool socks was heeded.

I really like the workmanship, the elegant wood grain;

I used it on a case last week, then wrapped it up again.

~0~

Lestrade,

You really didn't need to buy "The Jungle Book";

(A tiny glimpse of hardback cover's really all it took,

And tracing round the title on the wrapping helped a lot)

A shared delight in Kipling's work is something we have not.

~0~

Now, Mrs Hudson,

Thank you for the elegant wrapped box;

I shook it and it rattled, so thank God it isn't socks.

The faintest scent of sandalwood and cedar wood gives hope

That you have kindly bought for me my favourite brand of soap.

~0~

Wiggins,

An inventive source, indeed, of Christmas wrapping;

The front page of the Times no less, with headlines overlapping;

And, judging by the contours underneath, I can deduce

A hand-carved wooden soap dish quite ideal for daily use.

~0~

And finally,

A present which required no wrapping up;

My thanks to you, young Arthur, and your small and scruffy pup.

A day with Mrs Hudson was productive, I can see;

A person made of gingerbread, who looks a lot like me.

~0~

_Holmes put his pen and paper down, quite pleased he'd thought ahead;_

_No need for thanks on Christmas Day, he could relax instead._

_He picked up Mycroft's gift again and slowly shook his head,_

_Replaced the presents underneath the tree, and went to bed._

~0~


	17. Insomnia

_Seventeenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from KnightFury:"insomnia"._

_Warning: contains significant angst._

_Point of view of John Watson. Set during the hiatus._

* * *

**Insomnia.**

* * *

A glimpse for a second of head upon pillow;

A jolt as you know that she just isn't there.

Strain hard...can you hear her soft voice and her laughter?

You can't; grief deceives you, and fuels your despair.

~0~

See shapes which are fleeting, they might be just shadows

Of Mary; the rustle and swish of her skirt.

You stare at them squarely and listen intently;

They vanish, just leaving more pain and more hurt.

~0~

A bed, and four walls, and it's three in the morning;

And not the first time you've been lying awake.

Your world's been unravelled, uncentred, unbalanced;

There has to be, surely, some kind of mistake?

~0~

Her sound and her touch and her scent were so vivid,

The tilt of her smile and the spark in her eyes;

So why can't you hear her and touch her and see her?

And how can the sun, every morning, still rise?

~0~

It's five o'clock, now, and a new day is dawning;

At six, though bone-weary, you get out of bed,

You dress, wash and eat, and step over the threshold;

And, thinking of Mary, you hold up your head.

~0~

You know that in time there'll be peace, there'll be healing,

And shadows won't haunt you and rob you of sleep.

But for now you will waken at three in the morning

And reach out for Mary, remember, and weep.

~0~


	18. Ambition

_Eighteenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Lucillia:" Holmes has to deal with a Mary Sue who is interested in Mrs. Hudson."_

_This is also a very late gift for Capt Facepalm:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Ambition**

* * *

I'm the world's finest female detective;

I am clever and logical, too;

I am little but fierce,

And my sharp eyes can pierce

Through the fog which surrounds every clue.

~0~

I can take on the animal kingdom;

Giant rat, stripy snake, glowing hound.

I am never deterred

By the odd and absurd;

I amaze, I perplex, I astound.

~0~

I can sort out a crime scene in seconds;

I can pinpoint the villain, first time.

My brainwork is stunning,

I'm sharp and I'm cunning,

And can list all my virtues in rhyme.

~0~

But, although I am practically perfect;

There is one thing I have to confess,

I truly aspire to

The long held desire to

Find someone to awe and impress.

~0~

I lack a traditional sidekick,

A loyal assistant and friend.

I know who would be

The best comrade for me;

And stay constant and true till the end.

~0~

I am going to ask Mrs Hudson;

It won't take her long to decide.

She's bound to be willing

To join such a thrilling

Adventuresome life at my side.

~0~

She might miss her gentleman tenants;

But their time as top billing has passed.

I'm the fabulous sequel,

Much more than their equal;

She'll be packing her suitcase so fast!

~0~

I'll step out of my elegant carriage

At two hundred and twenty one B,

And once she says "Yes!"

We can toast our success

At Simpsons, with afternoon tea.

~0~

So, gathering cape, gloves and courage,

(I'm surprisingly shy and unsure),

A tentative knock,

And then, quite a shock...

Mr Holmes has just opened the door...

~0~

I stare open-mouthed and unspeaking;

His gaze is intense and amused;

"Mrs Hudson, no less,

Is your target, I guess,

But your offer, alas, is refused."

~0~

He tells me my deer-stalker's crooked;

And my pipe does not suit a "young miss"

And a banner declaring

My plans for flat-sharing

Would be subtler than clues such as this.

~0~

He has seen that my headgear lacks ribbon,

He has noted my cape is quite tattered;

My cab isn't real;

Just some wood and a wheel,

But he thinks Mrs H would be flattered.

~0~

Although I can't have Mrs Hudson;

He is sure there's a cake she is baking

And she'll cut a small piece

For her neighbours' great niece

When she hears of her brave undertaking.

~0~

And he'll let me consult Mrs Hudson

On a difficult case, now and then.

I smile and concede,

Thus the terms are agreed

Between Holmes and young Rosie, age ten.

~0~


	19. A Christmas Carol

_Nineteenth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Wordwielder: "Watson reads the Irregulars A Christmas Carol."_

_Wishing all the readers and writers on ffnet peace and joy today, and always._

_This is for MapleleafCameo, with love._

_Thanks to I'm Nova for letting me borrow Spencer._

* * *

**A Christmas Carol**

* * *

"Marley was dead";

Such an ominous line.

The Irregular audience shivered,

Despite blazing fire warming fingers and toes,

At the words the good doctor delivered.

Doctor Watson relaxed in his usual chair

Enjoying the comfort and heat;

A leather-bound copy of Dickens in hand,

Assorted young folk at his feet.

~0~

Wiggins sat, eager to hear every word,

Though he knew the whole classic by heart.

Arthur had never been read to before,

Entranced by the tale from the start.

Spencer, home early from work at the Strand,

Stretched out on the carpet, content.

A rare evening off from his other pursuits;

A few hours of rest, heaven sent.

~0~

Holmes, wine glass in hand, was observing the scene

While Watson continued to read;

The youngsters caught up in the picture unfolding

Of misery, meanness and greed.

A ripple of mirth as the nephew appeared,

Relentlessly cheerful and calm;

The description of Marley, with long heavy chains

Causing frissons of fear and alarm.

~0~

Each boy had his fears and his demons, Holmes knew,

A burden uniquely his own.

And sharing a story could lighten that load;

Each listener no longer alone.

He wasn't romantically minded at all,

As Watson was all too aware,

But he silently toasted Charles Dickens and all

Future writers with stories to share.

~0~

So, on to the ghosts of past, present and future;

What was, what is now, what might be.

Regret and missed chances transformed into hope;

Redemption from deep misery.

The last sentence finished, the book fastened shut,

The ghosts and their chains now all gone.

A smile, as young Arthur cried out as he left;

"God bless us! God bless Every One!"

~0~


	20. More Hot Chocolate

_Twentieth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Wordwielder: "Hot chocolate"._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**More Hot Chocolate**

* * *

Mrs Hudson's at work in the Baker Street kitchen;

Arthur is noting each step which she takes.

He carefully watches her busy hands flying,

He'd hate to make even the least of mistakes.

~0~

A large block is scraped, and the shavings collected;

A pan full of water is put on to heat,

Another of milk is put gently beside it.

Arthur stands back till this step is complete.

~0~

The shavings are added when water is boiling,

And mixed till the chocolate is melting and thick,

And then Mrs Hudson smiles gently at Arthur;

"Now this is the point where we have to be quick."

~0~

She passes a spoon to her willing assistant

Who stirs while she gradually adds boiling milk.

Arthur works hard as he carries on stirring

Till the chocolate resembles the texture of silk.

~0~

Mrs Hudson, for safety, at this point takes over

And pours out the liquid with well-practiced care.

A mug of hot chocolate for Holmes and for Watson,

And anyone else who is ready to share.

~0~

Arthur grips tightly the mug he is handed;

Inhaling as steam tendrils slowly uncurled.

He knew he would never get tired of hot chocolate;

There was no better drink in the whole entire world.

~0~


	21. Hopeless

_Twenty first response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Madam'zelleGiry: "Watson falls ill while working overtime at the surgery, but doesn't tell anyone, and continues to get worse."_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Hopeless**

* * *

Duty delayed his return from the surgery,

Three further calls sent him out late last night.

A headache developed, he tried to ignore it,

More patients were waiting, no rest was in sight.

An overfull clinic, an outbreak of fever,

A morning of difficult symptoms ensued.

His head throbbed intensely but people were waiting,

Forms were filled in, and appointments pursued.

~0~

The afternoon passed in a haze of emergencies;

Accidents, crises; he dealt with them all.

He mopped his brow frequently, headache still present,

Another demand for another late call.

So, clinic completed, an hour overrunning,

He picked up his bag, headed out on a case.

He'd not stopped for meals and felt faint and bone-weary

But still had this extra home visit to face.

~0~

Later, Holmes found the exhausted physician

Still wearing his coat, sound asleep in his chair.

He judged from the gaunt and unshaven appearance,

He succeeded with patients, but failed at self-care.

Doctors, he mused, were the worst kind of patients,

Determined to carry on work till the end;

Quite blind to the toll that the workload was taking,

Unwilling to take good advice from a friend.

~0~

Holmes roused his companion, found pills for his headache,

Made sure he had eaten and sent him to bed.

He gave the good doctor no choice in the matter

A locum could take the next clinic instead.

~0~

His comrade he knew, had sound clinical knowledge

And had read every medical book on the shelf;

But despite the great care which he gave to his patients,

He would always be hopeless at healing himself.

~0~


	22. Tree!

_Twenty second response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Spockologist: "The boys go searching for the perfect Christmas tree."_

_This may be slightly out of character..._

_I blame lack of sleep:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Tree!**

* * *

"A tree!

Oh, Holmes, A Christmas tree!

We need the perfect Christmas tree!

A perfect Christmas tree at last!

Although the twenty fifth is past

(Yes, Christmas Day went by so fast)

I'd like a perfect tree to last

A tree divine and unsurpassed

And green, dear Holmes,

It must be green!

Yes; lots and lots and lots of green!

The greenest tree I've ever seen!

With more than fifty shades of green!"

~0~

"Dear Watson, I recall last year

You found me lacking Christmas cheer,

I squashed your festive mood I fear.

Of course I'll find a tree for you

In fifty shades of green, or blue!

I'm all for festive fripperies

On dull post-Christmas days like these.

My aim, as always, is to please."

~0~

So off they went to find a tree,

The doctor's perfect Christmas tree.

Holmes wondered where that tree might be.

They searched each shop and market stall,

No perfect tree was there at all.

No trees for Watson, big or small.

And then, just as the day turned dark,

Holmes thought that they should try the park.

"We'll find the perfect tree, we will!"

And there, upon a lonely hill

A lovely tree grew straight and tall;

Most perfect festive tree of all.

In fifty perfect shades of green,

The nicest tree they'd ever seen.

~0~

Holmes raised his axe prepared to chop

But Watson grabbed his sleeve, said "Stop!

The tree will die, the needles drop,

This tree is far too nice to chop.

Let's leave it growing here", he said,

With birds and sunshine overhead.

I'll cope without a tree instead.

You found the perfect Christmas tree

And that, dear Holmes turns out to be

A thought that means the world to me.

~0~

And so, upon that lonely hill,

The lovely tree is growing still.

~0~


	23. Kitten

_Twenty third response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Spockologist: "A stray kitten decides to stay for the holidays"._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Kitten**

* * *

A typical reaction to the mention of a kitten,

Is brainless adoration from poor fools completely smitten.

But I do not subscribe to such a sentiment at all,

And gaze with deep suspicion at the creature in my hall.

It's black with tangled fur and has a quite unsettling stare;

I haven't yet deduced precisely what it's doing there.

It's sat beside the Christmas tree, as though it owns the place;

A look of satisfaction on its small bewhiskered face.

~0~

Its origin and parentage I really do not know;

All I know for certain is this kitten has to go.

~0~

I've questioned Watson thoroughly; he does not have a clue

And Mrs Hudson cannot give me any answers too.

And now it's turned its back on me and fallen fast asleep;

An irritating, smug and quite annoying little heap.

I wonder if its owners might appear to take it back;

Though clearly commonsense is something they completely lack

And now the damned thing's purring and is curled around my feet,

I'm not about to pat it or find something it can eat...

~0~

This kitten has a hint of Moriarty in its eyes;

A criminal Napoleon in soft and fluffy guise.

~0~

A bowl of water really doesn't mean the kitten's won;

And Watson's gleeful comments are, in truth, quite overdone.

The fact it's sitting happily upon our fireside mat

Is not a sign of lighter mood, I still dislike that cat.

It might look more appealing now its coat has seen a comb,

But nothing has been done to make the kitten feel at home.

The scraps of fish were simply what the fishmonger rejected;

No hint of festive softening of my nature is detected.

~0~

I hope its owners do drop in and take it far away;

Until they do, reluctantly, the little beast can stay.

~0~


	24. Dreaming

_Twenty fourth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Lucillia: "Holmes and Watson find themselves as six year- old brothers on Christmas Morning, and that there are presents to be opened under the tree downstairs. Are they men dreaming they are children or children dreaming that they are the great Detective and his faithful companion?"_

_I hope this makes sense..._

* * *

**Dreaming**

* * *

_6 o'clock on Christmas morning_

_Church bells ring the pair awake... _

~0~

Out of bed they tumble, sleepy,

Laughing at the noise they make.

Wooden floorboards bounce and echo

Running and excited feet,

From the bedroom to the landing,

Down the stairs in Baker Street.

Sitting room, and at the threshold

Both stop dead and simply stare;

One, delighted rushes in,

One regards the scene with care.

Piles of bright be- ribboned parcels

Stacked beneath a Christmas tree.

Bullet holes and Persian slipper

Add to all the gaiety

Magnifying glass, uncovered,

Now in one small person's hand

Carefully he checks each package

Every inch is slowly scanned.

Younger calls his older twin

To share his joy, and take a look.

Doctor's set or proud tin soldier?

Writing set or picture book?

Crouched amongst the scattered gifts

Are twins, yet clearly not the same.

Six years old, they both devise

A doctor and detective game.

~0~

_Six o'clock on Christmas morning_

_Church bells ring the pair awake..._

~0~

Holmes sits up, seems quite bewildered;

Blinks, and gives his head a shake.

Watson also wakes befuddled;

Both were dreaming, both the same.

Baker Street, yet both were brothers

Acting out a childhood game.

~0~

_Six o'clock on Christmas morning_

_Church bells ring the pair awake..._

~0~

Baker Street is miles away,

So, surely there is some mistake?

While they slept they travelled there;

Six years old, they dreamed the same;

Doctor and detective friends

Created in a childhood game.

~0~


	25. Mending

_Twenty fifth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from KnightFury:"Watson becomes a little depressed now that the festivities are drawing to a close. Does Holmes notice? If so, what does he do about it?"_

* * *

**Mending**

* * *

He sighed and sat back, put his pen down at last;

The twenty eighth day of December, already;

How quickly time passed.

A clinic tomorrow, no locum relief.

The stories, glad tidings and carols were over;

The break had been brief.

He'd hoped to catch up on his journal and sleep,

But such aspirations were easily thwarted.

More deadlines to keep.

He stood and decided to head up to bed,

To shut out his fears for a new year which promised

High workload ahead.

~0~

Holmes watched as the doctor swept out of the room;

He wondered what might be a useful distraction

To scatter the gloom.

He knew that his friend was unwilling to take

The steps which would help him to lessen the burden

Which kept him awake.

The theory was simple, if problems were shared

It banished the clearly illogical notion

That nobody cared.

Holmes violin sang as he played for his friend.

He smiled at the sound of the doctor returning;

His music could mend.

~0~


	26. Snowed In

_Twenty sixth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Galaxy1001D: "Write a story where Holmes and Watson are snowed in."_

_This is a continuation of chapter 3 "Stranded"; a second rondeau._

* * *

**Snowed In**

* * *

Outside the door, soft scrabbling heard

As something quite determined stirred

Then scraped against a window pane;

A keening sound was heard again.

A ghostly hound? No, quite absurd.

~0~

Their end seemed near, the pair concurred;

Snowed in, on hostile, bleak terrain.

And then a lantern seen, snow-blurred,

Outside the door.

~0~

They stood and stared without a word;

What miracle had just occurred?

A bloodhound on a strong looped chain

Had brought, through snow and freezing rain,

A rescue team, quite undeterred,

Outside the door.

~0~


	27. Secrets

_Twenty seventh response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from I'm Nova: "Mrs. Hudson's secret"_

_Holmes and his companions and any other guests do not belong to me._

_This one is for Jily Forevermore:-)_

* * *

**Secrets**

* * *

The supper things were washed and stacked and draining;

She had laid, in advance, the breakfast tray.

The laundry was washed and neatly airing;

Mrs Hudson was prepared to face another busy day.

~0~

She now had a matter to attend to;

An issue of great secrecy, no less.

She put on her warmest knitted bonnet,

Her stoutest boots and thickest shawl and woollen winter dress.

~0~

She picked up a fresh-baked rhubarb crumble

And placed it in a basket, on her arm.

She took great care to not disturb her tenants,

Thus avoiding explanations which would no doubt cause alarm.

~0~

She tiptoed to the hallway from the kitchen

And softly headed out and closed the door.

She hurried down the cobblestones, determined

She would make it to the rendezvous by ten, if not before.

~0~

She headed down a nondescript small alley

And reached an undistinguished little square.

She stood in her bonnet with her basket

And listened most intently in the evening winter's air.

~0~

At last came the noise she had expected;

An eerie wheezing bellows kind of sound.

And there, as she wrapped her shawl more tightly,

Appeared a blue police box on the frozen cobbled ground.

~0~

She waited till the flashing lights had settled

And checked that there was no one else about.

She rapped gently twice upon a panel;

The door was slowly opened and an eager head popped out.

~0~

She smiled at the leather coated figure

Who grinned at the sparkle in her eyes.

They both stepped inside the Doctor's kingdom;

The relative dimensions always caught her by surprise.

~0~

She handed him the fresh-baked rhubarb crumble

Then spotted Rose, and gave a little wave.

She heard once more the eerie wheezing bellows;

There were planets to discover and a universe to save...

~0~


	28. Hidden Depths

_Twenty eighth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead: "Write a story in which Watson gains some sort of power/supernatural capability (e.g. shapeshifting, being a werewolf...)"_

_I own no characters mentioned in this chapter._

_A Drabble, 100 words._

* * *

**Hidden Depths**

* * *

Doctor Watson

Hasn't told

The Great Detective

Everything;

Waiting for

The call

To action;

Nerves

Are like

A tight

Coiled spring.

~0~

Hasn't quite

Described

His limits

Nor what

Cause

He'll fight

One day.

Calm,

Mild-mannered,

Loyal sidekick;

Excellent

In every way.

~0~

Hides his

Superhero

Status,

Does not boast

About

His skill.

Extra

Ordinary talent

Under

Heavy wraps

Until...

~0~

Danger threatens,

Duty calls;

His friends

Require

His help once more.

Doctor Watson,

Proud Avenger,

Joining

Ironman

And Thor.

~0~

Never flaunts

His Super

Powers,

Never feels

The urge to

Share;

But when

Earth

Is faced

With peril

Doctor Watson

Will be there.

~0~


	29. Haunted

_Twenty ninth response to Hades' December challenge._

_Prompt from SheWhoScrawls: "Holmes and Watson are locked in a haunted mansion. Can they escape with their lives?"._

_I own no characters mentioned in this fic._

* * *

**Haunted**

* * *

It was, my friend declared, a three pipe problem;

The gothic looking door was firmly locked.

The frankly scary windows tightly shuttered,

And the chimney from the evil-looking hearth was sadly blocked.

~0~

The creaking, cobwebbed stairway held no promise,

The cellar held no exit, just decay.

The attic reeked of murder and of madness,

It seemed as though dear Holmes and I would have a lengthy stay.

~0~

To think, we'd only stopped here for directions!

A dark and stormy night and we were lost;

No map, no mackintoshes and no lantern;

Our lack of preparation for our trip was going to cost...

~0~

The owners of the house had seemed delightful;

A kindly, ancient couple; snowy haired,

But once we stepped inside, they quickly vanished

And left us in the dark to get frustrated, cross and scared.

~0~

The corridors were dank and seemed quite endless;

I'm sure we passed the same chair several times.

The spiders scuttling past appeared enormous;

The atmosphere hung heavy with the ghosts from long-past crimes.

~0~

The flitting shadows chilled us to the marrow;

I shuddered at a glimpse of ghoulish face,

A ghostly form appeared then swiftly vanished;

I told my friend I really, truly did not like this place.

~0~

And then, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps;

It seemed that Holmes and I were not alone.

We braced ourselves for unimagined horrors,

For spectre filled encounters on a scale as yet unknown...

~0~

Instead, a large Great Dane and scruffy sidekick

Came running at full tilt across the floor,

An orange-clad short-sighted lady followed;

A trio of adventurers we'd worked with once before.

~0~

Two monstrous, wailing phantoms made an entrance,

Pursuing my three friends across the hall;

The scruffy sidekick slipped, the Great Dane stumbled;

The wailing phantoms tripped, got tangled up and hit the wall.

~0~

A lovely red-haired girl in vibrant purple

Enhanced the rather complicated scene;

Her blond, white sweatered friend was close behind her,

He walked up to the stunned entangled heap, his blue eyes keen.

~0~

He pulled a latex mask off each dazed phantom;

The kindly white-haired couple was revealed.

A curse on "pesky kids" was uttered loudly;

The answer to a mystery, the house had long concealed

~0~

We thanked our friends for timely intervention,

Delighted when they found the front door key,

And left that hateful hardly-haunted mansion

With heartfelt invitations that they join us soon for tea.

~0~

The night was still, of course, quite dark and stormy;

A borrowed map ensured our way was clear;

Despite our rather harrowing adventure

We knew we'd make it home in time to greet another year.

~0~


	30. Memory

_Final response to Hades' December challenge._

_A huge thank you to all who have read, written, prompted and reviewed._

_Particular thanks to Hades:-)_

_A very Happy New Year to all._

_Prompt from Alosha135: "memory"_

_POV of Watson, after Reichenbach._

* * *

**Memory**

* * *

Every day

My world is tilted,

Often unexpectedly.

Random sights,

And sounds,

And scents

Can trigger scenes

So vividly.

~0~

Strong tobacco smoke

Has placed me

Instantly

In Baker Street:

Holmes;

Brow creased in concentration

Till he deems his case complete.

Violin

And Persian slipper,

Bullet holes which mark the wall,

Comradeship,

And conversation;

I, so clearly, see it all.

Mantlepiece,

With correspondence

Fastened with a jack knife blade.

~0~

As the plume of smoke disperses

Pictures also slowly fade...

~0~

A blink, and I adjust my senses;

Blazing fire and Mary near.

A glass to toast my absent friend

As bells ring in

A brand new year.

~0~


End file.
